Nananiel stood amongst Virgil and two high-ranked angels in the Adytum while a flock of suited Dominions were dispersed around the wide annular room. The flooring was paved with golden-brown sandstone, and many towering tiled columns formed giant horseshoe arches overhead.
The Power Chief, Irin, clad in a crimson red suit, scowled at Nananiel. “Your troops look pathetic.”
“At least they’re not barbaric mongrels with no class nor respect for human life,” Nananiel said.
“Everything we do is to protect human life.”
When it came to the Power Chief’s Container, it was true to the humans’ depiction of angels in their art. Long, dark, champagne blonde hair with two strands drizzled down in front and a face molded to perfection, a mystifying beauty that demands adoration and full-time attention. Beauty that women would bleed for and other men would cause others to bleed to receive affection from such an impeccable, graceful face. Her eyes told a different story, though.
“Why don’t you focus on not having your Container blow up and stop stirring up an argument,” Nananiel said. “You get a new face every week.”
“Okay, that’s enough,” The Virtue Chief said lazily, named Dabriel. His Container was that of a middle-aged man with a scruffy stubble. He wore a white robe with a white sash looped around the waist and ancient Greek sandals with ankle straps and toe rings.
Nananiel turned to Dabriel with raised brows. “Dabriel, what are you wearing?”
“Well, this is called a robe, Nananiel,” Dabriel said calmly.
“What I meant to say is, why are you attired in such a conspicuous way? You’re supposed to blend in with the other humans. We’ve talked about this.”
“The idea is to be so blatant that no one would suspect.”
“Get with the times,” Nananiel sighed, pulled out a handkerchief, and wiped his forehead.
“Take off your jacket,” Irin said.
“Don’t mock me. You know of my Container’s defect!”
“Just get a new one already.”
“That would be too much of a hassle.”
“Lazy pig.” Irin scanned the area.
The peripherals of the room were speckled with doors of all kinds: Greek, Roman, Egyptian, Japanese, wood, glass, stone, brass, bronze, gold, plaster, single doors, double doors, sliding doors, and folding doors. They were all decorated with a distinct sigil.
“There’s nothing going on here, nor on my end, nor Dabriel’s. The whole thing might’ve just been a ruse by the First Sphere angels,” Irin said.
Nananiel knew that there was some credibility to Irin’s statement. With the First Sphere angels, whether they cared for the humans or lower-ranking angels was debatable.
She perused at the broad white beam in the center of the room, shooting through a nebulous hole in the fan-vaulted ceiling — the Realm’s life force. A blood-red transparent shell surrounded the beam. An array of sigils spiraled up and down the barrier — the Great Seals that have stood the test of time for over two hundred years and shall remain that way—only dissolving during the wretched period of Halloween, where spirits and creatures were allowed to roam free in the Realm for one whole day.
Irin browsed once again through the battle-hardened looks of her Dominion brethren. They had their eyes peeled and relinquished the action to blink; they were all on high alert but weren’t focused on any of the features in the room. Irin shifted her gaze to the real main attraction—a young female hiding herself in the furthest corner of the Adytum, ogling at the flashing barrier. She had wavy sunflower blonde hair that snaked down her shoulders and to the center of her back, clothed in a preppy school outfit.
“I can’t believe the First Sphere granted you permission to free that thing,” Irin said. She turned back to Nananiel with a mocking smile. “I’m curious to see how you’ll get it back into the cage after they call this thing off. This entire operation is so poorly managed. You’re leaving a whole Adytum to be guarded by Dabriel and his Virtues? What will they do, sing, and play their instruments for the right ambiance during the battle?”
“We need all hands on deck,” Nananiel shrugged.
“Why the shrug?” Dabriel said and then squinted at Nananiel.
“My Container is faulty, remember?” He grinned. “Irin. It's a division of labor. It’s called strategy.”
“You’re trying to lecture me about battle strategy? What a joke. Do you know who I am? You are still just a Putto that got lucky and had Master Virgil over here to vouch for your promotion.” Irin glanced at Virgil. “I’ll be hoping for your failure from my post, Nananiel. Then, hopefully, someone with real competence can take your position.” A red light discharged from her Container, and she vanished.
“Wow, she really wants your job.” Dabriel chuckled. “I’m going back, too. Me and the Virtues will write some songs of encouragement as we wait for the Fourteenth. Byeeeee.” There was a blue light, and he disappeared.
Nananiel’s eyes fell back on the girl. “Naomi,” he muttered. Drips of sweat escaped from his brow and stung his eye. He closed it and hissed. “This isn’t a bad idea. Winterberry’s Adytum is the main one out of the three. If anyone of the Tainted Generation were to show up to break the Seals, they’d take the best of their firepower to this Adytum. Naomi is powerful.” Nananiel looked over to Virgil for approval.
“But has no combat experience,” Virgil said, finally commenting. He brushed down his tie and put a hand on Nananiel’s back. “I say it’s time for some words of encouragement.”
Nananiel held Virgil’s daunting gaze and groaned. He glanced at his subordinates, pursed his lips, and took several steps forward. The Dominion angels turned to him without command. “I will not lie to any of you. Many angels will probably die this evening, but I promise you, none of the deaths will be in vain.” he started.
“Whichever miscreant of the Fourteenth Tainted Generation chooses to oppose us, the Dominions, the protectors of this Realm — the inheritance Father left us, shall be executed on sight and shown no mercy. Destruction of their mortal shells and the containment of their souls are the only acceptable outcomes of this operation. That’s all.” Nananiel cleaned his neck with the handkerchief and retreated to Virgil. The Dominions returned to goggling at the blonde girl.
“Well, said. You actually sounded like a leader,” Virgil complimented.
“Can you just take over again? This is exhausting. Look at how much I am sweating.”
“Get a new container already, and no, I warned you about the strains that came with the title.”
“I was young and naïve. It’s your job to manage that as an Elder. Just take it back,” Nananiel whined.
Virgil chuckled. “Never. I like my position now. All the credentials and authority without having to worry about responsibility, consequences, and liabilities.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Nananiel glared at the grinning, worn-out Dominion. The retired life seemed nice. He fantasized about it for a bit until he caught a glimpse of Kalmiya emerging from down the hall. He peered at her as she slogged towards him.
Virgil turned to her and asked, “Where were you?”
Kalmiya slowly came to a halt before the two. She was shivering, her skin flushed, and her cheeks sunken. She focused on them with dead fish eyes but replied vigorously, “I apologize. I thought I was supposed to be in one of the other Adyta with either Elder Brother Dabriel or Elder Sister Irin.”
Nananiel’s face went vacant. He opened his mouth to say something, but Virgil beat him to it.
“Your Container is pale. Is everything okay?”
“I feel fine. These Containers are always acting up. It’s such a hassle to find a good one these days.” She forced a smile and brushed through between Nananiel and Virgil. They shivered intensely and whipped back to Kalmiya as she halted to study Naomi. “Is that a Dominion, too?” She asked.
Nananiel stored his handkerchief and kept both hands open. “Kalmiya,” he said, “are you sure you are okay?”
Kalmiya turned her head back at a dangerous 180-degree angle and flashed a wealthy smile. “Yes, Brother Nananiel.”
Unconvinced, Nananiel analyzed her from top to bottom. He took one step forward and said, “Kalmiya, cite the Dominion Oath.”
Kalmiya froze with a smile on her face. A tiny crack appeared in the center of her forehead. Browning blood oozed from it. She didn’t seem to mind as it touched her upper lip. When she noticed the horror on their faces, “Damn,” she said, “I should’ve studied that one.”
“Sister Kalmiya’s Container has been corrupted!” Nananiel shouted loud enough to be heard across the vast room, echoing tumultuously in every angel’s ear.
The intruder inside Kalmiya twisted her smile into an insidious one as the other angels locked their eyes on her. “I’m glad you’re all more attentive than I had speculated. The angels are a brilliant race.”
“I’ll eject you, deviant!” Nananiel charged forward and then halted as the intruder burst Kalmiya’s shirt open, revealing an ungodly sigil painted on the upper chest over the swathed breasts.
“Sorry, but I am not going anywhere just yet,” the intruder sneered.
“Wait, is that—is that—did you seal yourself in?”
Virgil went bug-eyed and muttered, “I’ve never seen a seal like that since—”
“The days of the Thirteenth Tainted Generation?” The intruder snickered.
Nananiel stretched his hand to his side and summoned his divine sword — smithed with a long white gold blade, edges lined with a warm yellow hue rising from an aurous winged hilt. “Destroy the Container!”
Virgil summoned his holy spiked hammer — the face of the polearm shone as brightly as a sun.
Dominions rushed to the intruder in every direction as they summoned their divine weapons. Naomi stood, paralyzed and wide-eyed, watching the spectacle.
Nananiel and the angels drove their holy blades through the corrupted Container from every cardinal, ordinal, and inter-ordinal point. The newly assumed pincushion bobbed in place as more cracks crawled up the torso and face. Virgil slammed the face of the hammer onto the top of the head of Kalmiya’s corrupted Container. The spikes adhered. Brown sludge squirted out of the wound and trickled down the face. The intruder remained quiet, not even entertaining the angels with a groan.
As the soundless air took over, Nananiel did a mental count of the angels with him. He hissed and then looked over to Naomi. One Dominion, in a twitchy male Container, was creeping up to her from the side.
“Containers are a very dangerous thing,” the roguish male Dominion said.
Naomi looked over at him and trembled. Nananiel couldn’t find the time to speak and order his agents. He gripped the hilt of his sword and hastily tried to pull it out. The first intruder said in a demonic voice, “Containers curse you winged morons in this Realm.”
The Dominion’s compromised Containers recited an ancient incantation in unison and alarmingly quickly. Before Nananiel and the other angels had the time to register the incantation being sung in a language they’d never heard before, their mouths stretched open, jaws pulled down by an invisible force, and their cheeks elongated and extended painfully, well past their breaking point like a human on a rack.
The pain was unlike anything he felt before. Nananiel screamed, and something ripped in the throat of his Container, silencing his voice. His eyes prickled and filled with tears as he watched baby blue spheres of light eject from out of the mouths of his subordinates’ Containers and into Kalmiya’s corrupted Container. Nananiel saw Virgil’s soul get ejected as well, and then nothing.
Blackness fills his vision. A void, an endless abyss, was all he could see. The air he no longer could feel was now noiseless. The scent was just as empty as the lack of taste.
This was what came before existence and what came after being exiled from it. Non-existence. Limbo.
----------------------------------------
Zeke arrived at the scene rather unceremoniously. He crashed into a table, hitting the edge with his hip bone, hissing under his breath, and then said, “If I knew you were this much of an asshole, I would’ve never pushed her to you!”
Zeke glowered at Raylan and his group, forming a wart between his brows. His lip quivered, and his jaw quaked. The group remained undaunted.
Raylan raised his hands in peace with a crude smile playing on his lips. “It was an accident. Honestly.”
Zeke’s head throbbed. He pressed two fingers into the side of his head, pinched some flesh, and rubbed it between his fingers and thumb. He kept blinking as if he was having a seizure. Cotton Pants chuckled at the sight.
Zeke looked over to AJ. She was kneeling now and stared back with a woeful look, a silent plea to stay down.
“I didn’t think she’d tumble that hard…” Raylan said on a low level, but Zeke heard. Raylan sprouted out of his seat. “But hypothetically, even if it weren’t an accident.” He moved up to Zeke. “What’re you going to do about it? You’re just a dweeb that probably jacks off to 2D pixelated girls all day.”
Nothing reached Zeke’s ears after the comment. He glanced over to Raylan’s group, who all had sardonic smiles. He let go of the flesh he was pinching onto and used his shaking hand to comb his hair back.
“Careful now, Zeke. Remember, Violet isn’t here to protect you anymore,” Cotton Pants said.
Zeke escaped to the dim recesses of his mind. Violet was there. A little Argentinian girl who stood up for him, Ugo, and AJ since they were 11 years old. She rose to leader status of their group despite being the last one to join. She slipped into their lives out of nowhere, and the most mysterious thing about her was her bewitching dark cobalt blue eyes that, at times, seemed to have a violet hue, hence her birth name.
He replayed the time when she broke the nose of a 13-year-old on the school canteen counter during lunch when he wouldn’t give Ugo his GameGuy back. She didn’t stop there. She clutched handfuls of fries and bread and crammed them into his face. His crying incentivized Violet to go even further, and she squirted milk out of a carton to commingle with the tears, snot, grease, potato mash, and wheat spread on his face. Violet, La Heroina Violenta, he remembered some other Hispanic students called her. Whenever pissed off enough, she would scowl at her enemies up close, and the gloss in her eyes made it look as if they turned into purple-shining headlights. It was a weird phenomenon that people had to experience for themselves to fully understand it. She was the closest thing to a comic book character Zeke had ever seen in real life.
It’s been three years since her parents got fed up with her antics and sent her to an all-girls Catholic boarding school in Argentina. Violet couldn’t protect them. He realized how he, Ugo, and AJ always avoided conflict since then.
Zeke returned to the real world and found the scene in the same way as he left it.
“Well, are you going to do something, or can I get back to my food and friends?” Raylan said.
Was he going to do something? What could he do? Violence ran in his family, but he had no way to channel it, or maybe he just wasn’t willing to. Zeke’s eyes dropped to the floor. His head was still throbbing, and then he took notice of his heart punching against his chest. Zeke’s legs begged to turn away. He clenched his entire body to silence it and tried to clear his head, but it was difficult to, as he noticed a minty breath clogging his nostrils.
It was maybe too minty… That’s it.
Zeke was smirking. He froze and relaxed his body. An answer popped up in his mind’s eye.
“Raylan, you’re sick, aren’t you?”
His inner doctor was being paged. Zeke glanced over to the Caesar salad and back to Raylan. He squinted and then sniffed his mouth. Raylan pulled back and pushed him away.
“Your breath is really minty fresh.” Zeke continued. “How many mints do you pop in your mouth per day? I bet you’ve got sugarless gum in your pocket, too. Is that just paranoia?”
“I take care of my teeth, so what?”
“Everybody’s having beer and pizza, and you’re just having water and a salad? You all brought fake IDs, and you won’t even take advantage of that? How odd.” Zeke paused, walked over to the salad, and sniffed it. “No garlic. You had the waiter do that favor for you, huh? And coincidentally, our Caesar salad is the one salad we have that doesn’t include onions.” He turned to the rest of the group and explained, “Your buddy over here has really bad breath. Now, halitosis can be caused for a number of reasons, some cancers, liver failure, and other metabolic diseases.” He turned to Raylan. “But you’re a baseball player, so I’m pretty sure your case is just the result of poor oral hygiene. It looks like the baseball star didn’t listen to Mommy and kept on shoving food in his mouth, forgetting to brush his teeth from time to time. When the food gets stuck between your teeth and stays there for a long time, it becomes particles that promote bacteria growth that spreads in your mouth. Start flossing and using fluoride toothpaste. You may want to reduce sugarless gum consumption; they contain laxatives and cause diarrhea, supposing you aren’t already dealing with it. Now I know why you’re single.”
The bar went quiet.